


virtue

by Wicked_Seraph



Series: Aether Poisoning (Kinktober 2020) [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Chastity Device, Cunnilingus, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Just Another Thursday Night for Thancred I Guess, Locked-Up In a Cage Watching Your Quasi-Daughter Get Eaten Out, Thancred Doesn't Actually Get to Touch Her, more's the pity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Seraph/pseuds/Wicked_Seraph
Summary: He wanted to kill him.He wanted to drive a knife through his heart.But Thancred was no longer certain the choir that sang for blood did so out of fury for Ryne’s sullied virtue.
Relationships: Ryne | Minfilia/Thancred Waters, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Ryne | Minfilia
Series: Aether Poisoning (Kinktober 2020) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949692
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	virtue

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before proceeding. If a fic of this nature isn't your cup of tea, there is no shame in clicking the back button and finding one more suited for your tastes. 
> 
> If this is the kind of blend you like, however? By all means, I hope you enjoy! ^^
> 
> Written for Day Two of Kinktober 2020: Chastity Device

“Y-You’ve made your point, Ascian — now let her go.”

White-knuckled, Thancred’s hands trembled and clenched around the translucent bars of his makeshift gaol. Some godforsaken corner of his mind — somewhere where sanity still glimmered like a desperate beacon — marveled at the peculiar texture: silken, almost velvet, soft despite how unyielding they were within his grasp.

Beyond them, said Ascian grinned idly, pacing and examining the pale, squirming figure bound by her ankles and wrists to a some sort of statue — seemingly made of the same material as his cage, if the color and texture were anything to go by.

He tried not to think too much on what else in the room seemed crafted from the same material, but all the same he felt it bite into the aching flesh between his bare legs, digging into his erection in a way that could only be described as “punitive”.

_Fitting_ , he thought. He wouldn’t be enduring such agonies if the sight before him hadn’t stirred something festering inside of him, gnawing at his pride with all the mercy of a ravenous hound.

Ryne was shackled and flaunted like a prized butterfly, skin flushed and legs slick with her pleasure. Thancred’s heart raced, lust aching and throat sour with bile.

He wanted to kill him.

He wanted to drive a knife through his heart.

But he was no longer certain the choir that sang for blood did so out of fury for Ryne’s sullied virtue.

Ryne had shrieked, had fought — until Thancred’s life was offered as a wager. 

“Rest assured that I shall have you, and Thancred will watch as I take that which he’d thought his to spoil. Whether or not he lives to try again depends on you, my dear.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Ryne had asked, skin peppered with gooseflesh in the bitter cold of Emet-Selch’s chambers. Her tiny nipples hardened, and in lieu of a reply Emet-Selch bent down to claim one of them, tongue flicking against them before his lips enveloped them.

“You sick son of a —“

“Careful, now. Just because I would kill you first does not mean I’ll spare her.” With this he resumed his ministrations, bringing his hand towards her other breast to stroke, to tease.

Thancred knew the appropriate reaction was rage — and he did feel it, flickering along his nerves — and yet… this rage burned a little too hot, a little too dark. Pure anger was quicksilver and sharp; this was different, slow and luxurious like treacle pooling in his stomach. Anger, certainly, but contaminated with something that should have been reserved for rain-soaked alleyways or the guest room of an ill-reputed inn.

This was not something that should work its way into his blood while an Ascian played with Ryne’s breasts and earned a confused, heady whimper for his troubles. 

“Th-Thancred,” she whispered as she squirmed. “Don’t… ah… don’t look at me —!”

“I think he’ll find that difficult.” A small bite of her nipples, not enough to injure but enough to earn a sharp gasp that Thancred _knew_ was not pain. “And besides — if he wants both of you to survive this, then he _will_ watch, won’t he?”

“And if I don’t?” Thancred snarled.

“You’ll die an abstinent fool, and she’ll spend her brief final moments counting your heartbeats,” he replied briskly. “I’d hardly consider this a difficult decision.”

“No, I suppose a sadist wouldn’t.” 

Emet-Selch blinked, lips twisting into a smile. “Sadist? Look a little more carefully.”

He wished he could say that he didn’t want to — it would have been the right thing to do. And yet his eyes were drawn to the bud and swell of her breasts, to the flush across her skin and the suggestive glimmer across her thighs. He glanced at Emet-Selch, who had in turn been watching the trajectory of Thancred’s gaze; it may as well have been inked across her skin.

_She… she’s enjoying this._

“Precisely,” Emet-Selch purred, as if the words had spilled from Thancred’s mouth. A hand trailed gently, almost tenderly, along Ryne’s stomach, grazing the flare of her hips before stroking her legs. She bit her lip, legs wriggling. “A maiden through and through — one very preoccupied, it seems, with what you might think should she be aught less than a trembling lamb.”

“Then let her go!” 

The words felt cottony in his mouth; not necessarily untrue, but insincere. He could feel that familiar molten trickle down his spine. How many times had she retired early to her quarters to avoid precisely this: having her own curiosity unveiled before him? 

What did she think of when she touched herself? Who did she imagine? How long had they been pacing in circles around one another like flame dancing just beyond the reach of kindling?

“How cruel, to leave a woman unsatisfied. Surely you know better?”

How could he possibly respond? Would be better to withhold such pleasures from her for the sake of her virtue? To allow her to glean some measure of delight from this? 

A better man would have known immediately. 

Thancred bit his lip as his cock swelled, the device affixed to it biting into his flesh as if to say  _you’re no better than the Ascian._

“Just…” A sigh, dense with an unspoken understanding. “Be… gentle. Please. And Ryne… do not blame yourself. For any of this. The sin is mine alone.”

Emet-Selch’s grin widened impossibly as his hand dipped between her legs; Ryne gasped, turning her head fruitlessly to the side as the Ascian’s fingers easily found their target, stroking along and around her clit as if he’d lain with her before. Although Emet-Selch’s frame blocked him from seeing what precisely he was doing, the way Ryne mewled and shifted her hips left few options.

He pulled his fingers back for a moment, holding and spreading them over his shoulder such that the light caught the viscous strands between them — just as much for Thancred’s benefit as his own.

“Oh gods,” Thancred whispered, stomach lurching even while he felt his cock twitch and throb in response. “Ryne, I—”

Whatever words Thancred may have offered died on his tongue as Emet-Selch settled Ryne’s legs over his shoulders, replacing clever fingers with a wicked tongue — replacing soft moans with low, wanton gasps and vulgarities he’d thought the girl ignorant of.

“Oh, Thancred—” she moaned, as if she’d imagined this a thousand times. To his credit, the Ascian only supped on her more attentively, angling his body such that Thancred could see his tongue running along her folds, dipping inside her entrance.

_He did want me to watch, after all._

He swore he could smell her lust

Oh god, to be able to kneel between her legs, to taste her sweet little cunt, to feel her grip his tongue, his--

_Fuck. Calm down._

The chastity cage around his cock dug in mercilessly.

Perhaps it was the peculiar haze numbing his faculties, but it seemed that with every passing moment, the strange device became more of a challenge than a warning.


End file.
